Prologue

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He still thought of Joni often. The memories of him haunted his dreams as persistently as they did his days, even though he had sworn to his therapist that he was rid of the obsession.

His therapist, a man in his fifties, bored with his life or perhaps his job, seemed too easy to be played with. The questions were ridiculously predictable and so were the answers that the questions sought.

The man seemed pleased; "You're on a good path here," he had said after their previous session and Chris had smiled, gratefully, just like he wanted to portray. "You're beginning to see the error of your ways." They had talked about his mother's and father's relationship. Of course, his behavior was a symptom caused by his childhood. He was angry at his mother for being too weak and he was angry at his father. Yet he had behaved just like him in a similar situation, which had resulted in anger with himself.

He needed to learn to appreciate himself and learn to know himself properly for the healing process to take place. He needed to acknowledge when and where these violent thoughts and actions awoke and try to find another way to release the aggression, a healthier and, most of all, harmless way.

This, he assured, he wanted to do for himself as well.

Freedom; how he longed for it, how he counted the days to his release, it would only be another seven months, the original sentence cut in half as he was a first-timer. He was aware that in many other countries he would have served a much longer time for his crime. Still, for him, even a little over a year felt too long, especially when his only friend in prison would be released much earlier.

"I'll promise to visit you", the green-eyed man promised one night, hand on his hard member, moving teasingly slowly up and down on its length. Chris' head had fallen backward for a moment, panting through his parted lips, his gaze shifting to the open magazine next to them. It was his friend who had brought it to him; as a surprise gift and comfort for lonely nights, something to inspire him.

His ex was back to modeling and now Chris could still follow him, at least through these adverts. Joni had recovered, the athletic pictures for some sports line revealed parts of a well-trained figure, lean muscles under the seemingly flawless skin. The pictures, the so-called adverts, exuded sex and revealed that Joni hadn't changed.

He had just been conveniently pushed aside with an exaggerated excuse so that Joni could continue with his current boyfriend, who obviously didn't mind the way Joni presented himself. The other man took his organ in his mouth while playing with his balls in his hand and Chris groaned, thrusting in deeper, almost making the other gag, and then place his other hand on his stomach to calm him down a bit.

Chris kept gazing at the picture, imagining Joni in the place of his friend. He closed his eyes, fucking the warm offering mouth, groaning in pleasure as he came. The one on his knees before him smiled, licking his lips for the remains of his seed. "Will you miss me when I'm gone?" The voice asked teasingly. And Chris answered with a lazy, relaxed smile.

"You know the answer...." he said and brought his pants back up. "And..."

"...I will visit," the other man promised, then glanced at the magazine and grinned when shifting his gaze back to him. "And send you more pictures." He winked and Chris ran his hand through the other's hair, grinning back at him.

"Good, I know that you're the only one I can count on. You're the only true friend I have anymore." The other man smiled at him, they shared an understanding, they understood each other.

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